Insanity vs Reality
by UThnkUrFunny IThnkImAdorable
Summary: Sam suddenly finds himself wearing a straitjacket, in a padded room. He soon discovers that everything he knows, might not be reality. Limp!Unbalanced!Sam WARNING! Father abusing child and sexual abuse not the father.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Would I be writing FANFICTION if I owned them....?**

**I know, I know, what the hell am I doing starting yet ANOTHER story.... This idea just popped in my head and wouldn't leave me alone. I don't know if people will like it or not. Whether or not I continue it depends on what response I get.  
**

**This fic takes place in season two, sometime after Hunted. So if you're only on the first season, 1) you need to catch up with the rest of us, 2) this fic may have spoilers, though not in the first chapter.**

**Enjoy chapter one!  
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**As Sam started to wake, he felt strange. Like not everything was in place. As he became more aware, he found that he wasn't able to move his arms.

His eyes snapped open.

The room was completely white. The walls and floor were padded. There was a mirrored window on the wall opposite Sam. He looked at himself for a moment before realizing that he was wearing a straitjacket. His hair reached down to his shoulders, and he had a 4 o'clock shadow. His eyes had dark bags under them.

Sam started to panic. _What the hell is going on?! Where's Dean!? Where am I!?_

Sam stumbled to his feet and tugged hard on the restraints. But no matter how hard he tugged, the jacket would not come loose. Trying to ignore the sudden feeling of claustrophobia, Sam looked around and noticed a door. Sam ran towards it and hit it full force with his shoulder and back. He repeated this again and again, hoping that the door would just break open.

After the twelfth attempt, Sam stopped. He stood there panting, his shoulder starting to ache. _Okay, Winchester. Calm down and think...!_ The last thing Sam remembered was falling asleep in the motel room. They had just finished a simple salt-n-burn hunt. Having found some demonic omens a few states over, the brothers decided to get a good nights rest before heading out.

Nothing suspicious or strange happened.

So what the hell was he doing here?

Sam wondered if it was true that you couldn't feel pain in dreams. Because if it was, then his shoulder is a testament that this is _not_ a dream.

Squirming in the jacket in a futile attempt to loosen it a bit, Sam looked at the mirrored window. "Hey!" Sam yelled at it. "Can I speak with someone!? Please!" A minute passed and there was no response. Sam sighed. _Great. I'm some sort of patient at a mental hospital that I have no memory of going to. I have no way of contacting Dean until someone opens the freakin' door...! God, I hope this is just some weird ass dream..._

The door suddenly swung open, a middle-aged doctor strolling in. He closed the door behind him, causing Sam to cringe when he heard the automatic lock click. The doctor looked down at his clipboard, flipping through a few of the pages. "Well, Sam, you seem pretty lucid today... that's good..." he said distractedly.

"Right..." Sam said, not quite believing what was going on. "Look, doctor, can you tell me where the hell I am?"

The doctor frowned looked up over his reading glasses at the young man. His facial expression was one of pure shock. "What do you remember, Sam?"

"Not any of this...! Look, can you just tell me where I am and what I'm doing here?"

"The last thing you remember..." the doctor said carefully. "Were you with Dean?"

Sam blinked in surprise. "Yeah... where is he? Can I talk to him?" Sam tugged at the jacket again, his frustration and confusion starting to build. "Have I been in some sort of freakish accident or..."

The doctor shook his head, astounded. "I can't believe this..."

"Believe what?!" Sam shouted. "Where the hell am I?!"

The doctor took off his reading glasses and looked at Sam with a serious look. "You're in the Lawrence Asylum. You've been here for seven years now."

"Seven years!? What the hell...?!" _This BETTER be a weird ass dream...!_

"By the looks of things you've had a _strange_ relapse..." he said quietly. The doctor made a couple notes on the clipboard, frustration and confusion nearly as palpable as Sam's. He turned to leave, looking towards the mirrored wall and nodding. The door popped open and the doctor turned to Sam before leaving. "Now, Sam. I want you to just stay calm. Things will be explained to you shortly."

Sam started to squirm in the jacket again. "Can you at least take this off me?" Sam asked pleadingly. "I'm not gonna attack anyone or anything so it's not really necessary..."

The doctor gave a small smile as he shut the door behind him. "Unfortunately it is."

---

It had to have been at least an hour or two and nothing happened. Sam sat on the floor, staring at himself in the mirror. _Something had better happen soon or I _will_ go insane..._ Sam pulled on his restraints again, but like before, they held steady. He was getting worn out from the tugging and shouting. Sagging against he wall, Sam thought of the possibilities of what the hell was going on. The most plausible seemed to be that he and Dean were in an accident and Sam had a head injury.

But since when was the most plausible usually the most accurate? In Sam Winchester's world, the most obscure idea he could come up with is probably what happened.

Some supernatural entity could have put Sam into an alternate universe or some sort of full-blown illusion for some reason. Whether that be to slowly drain the life out of him, or just to have a little fun. Sam cringed at the implications of that thought and quickly pushed it back.  
_  
_The door opened again, the doctor coming back in. Only now he was accompanied by a middle aged woman. The woman ran up an kneeled in front of Sam. She smiled and had tears in her eyes. She reached up with her hands to cradle Sam's face but Sam quickly slammed himself back. "Whoa, lady! What the hell do you think you're doing?"

The woman gave Sam a look of distress before turning to the doctor. The doctor was frowning. "I don't know what to say, Mel. He's acting almost normal, and it seems his memory has been completely morphed."

"So..." Mel said carefully, "It's not _just _Dean this time...?"

"What the hell are you people talking about!" Sam shouted, getting desperate for answers.

Mel turned back to Sam. "Sweetie, do you recognize me _at all_?"

"No... Why? Should I?" A thought suddenly occurred to Sam. If this is some sort of alternate universe, then maybe his parents...! "Wait, this is Lawrence, Kansas, right?"

Mel smiled. "Yeah, sweetie. It is."

"So... Does a Mary and John Winchester live here?"

Sam was completely taken back by the completely devastated look on Mel's face. "Oh, Sam..."

"Well," the doctor said. "That might explain his comatose state..."

Sam scoffed in frustration. "Will someone just straight out tell me what the hell is going on?! Can I use I phone?! I wanna call my brother!"

"Mel." She turned to the doctor. "I think you should leave for now."

Mel slowly nodded. She looked back at Sam and made another attempt to touch him, only to have Sam shy away again. Understanding of the situation, Mel reluctantly got up and left, muttering a 'thank you' at the doctor as she passed.

"Wait, Mel!"

Mel froze at the door and looked back at Sam.

"Can you call my brother? His cell is 866-907-3235. Maybe he'll actually shed some _light_ on the whole situation to me..."

Tears formed in Mel's eyes as she nodded and quickly left.

The doctor sighed. "Alright, Sam. I want you to listen very closely to what I'm saying. Your name is Samuel Winchester. Son of John and Mary Winchester. When you were six months old, your mother died in a fire. Your father moved with you from town to town..."

"What the hell are you talking about...?"

The doctor continued as if uninterrupted. "When you were sixteen, when your father moved back here with you, it was discovered that your father abused you for most of your life."

"What?! Is this some sort of sick joke...?!"

"... You were brought here to recover under my care. I'm Dr. Jared Ackles. Melissa Hemmings became your official guardian. You mostly remained the same over the years, until about a year and a half ago, when started drifting between comatose and hysterics. But... This is the most lucid I've seen you in... well, ever."

Sam shook his head. _This can't be happening. Where the hell am I?! What the hell is doing this to me!?_ "Wh-what about Dean?" Sam asked. "You haven't even mentioned him."

Dr. Ackles sighed. "Sam... Dean doesn't exist."

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**Please review, and let me know if you want me to continue the story.  
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	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Would I be writing FANFICTION if I owned them....?**

**Wow! I certainly didn't expect quite a response! I guess I'm continuing...  
**

**This story actually isn't planned out that well (it _was_ something I came up with on a whim), so I hope the story does start to get boring after a while...  
**

**Enjoy chapter two!  
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**"What?" Sam whispered disbelievingly.

"We think that when you were young, you created an older brother named 'Dean,' to comfort you while your father abused you. To you, this 'Dean' was a mother-figure, father-figure, and friend. All of which you were lacking while growing up."

"I don't believe this..."

Dr. Ackles looked at Sam for a few moments. "I expect that your memory will start to return, now that you're no longer comatose and hysteric. I just hope this time we'll be able to help you cope better." He got up and left, leaving Sam in a slight state of shock.

_What the hell is this...!?_ Sam got up and started to pace, thinking of all the possibilities of the situation. Unfortunately the only situation that Sam could think of that _he _could do anything was if this was some sort of nightmare, supernatural-induced or not. He could then try to kill himself. Unfortunately, it might _not_ be some sort of nightmare, in which case killing himself would be stupid. Unfortunately, any other possibility means that Sam just has to sit back and wait for Dean to somehow figure this out.

Sam sat back down and closed his eyes. The gravity of the situation catching up to him, Sam quickly feel to sleep.

---

_Sam's wrists were on fire. The metal of the handcuffs were cutting in so deeply, thin lines of blood were trailing down his arms and torso. The cuffs were nailed high on the wall, so he was forced to stand unless he wanted the entire weight of his body on his wrists against the torturous metal. His feet were burning and his legs were going numb. His father turned off the heater so not to have a large heating bill, so the room was freezing. With only a pair of tattered jeans on, he was trembling violently. At some point he wet himself, the liquid quickly cooling off and making Sam all the more colder. The cuffs jiggled against the sensitive cuts, breaking them back open and allowing more blood to fall. Always the pain, the cuffs, and the blood._

_How long had his father been gone now? Ten minutes? Thirty minutes? An hour? Two hours? Sam had no idea. When his father left, he made sure Sam was secure in the cuffs on the wall. He had to make sure Sam wouldn't get into trouble while he was gone. _

_God, it hurt so _much_..._

_The door open and his father stumbled in. His face was sagged and his eyes were watery and unfocused. He was obviously drunk._

_"St-till sssstandin' braaat...?" John slurred out. He squinted at his son, sizing him up. "'Pressive...." he mumbled. Sam's breathing quickened when he realized his father was frustrated. Apparently, Sam wasn't supposed to have been able to stay standing. John walked up and kicked Sam's legs out from under him. Sam screamed as his wrists slammed against the cuffs, fresh blood squirting out, staining the metal dark red and dripping onto the floor. Vomit spurt from Sam's mouth as the intense pain increased tenfold. Unfortunately, it landed on his father.  
_

_"Ugh! Fff'thy li'l bassstard!" He slammed a knee into Sam's stomach. Sam let out a pained grunt as the pressure increased on his wrists. As much as Sam tried not to cry, tears started to roll down his face. John usually hated it when Sam cried. It made him so much angrier. But now he didn't notice as he dug into his pockets for the key to the cuffs. After he finally found them, it took six tries until the key finally made it into the hole and the let Sam's left wrist free. Seven tries for his right. Sam fell limply to the ground, curling up into a small ball, quietly sobbing._

_"Paaathhhh-etic...." John stumbled to the bed and fell on it, unconscious._

_Sam remained motionless on the floor, afraid of what might happen if he were to move and his father saw him._

_"Dean..." he whimpered out. "M-monst-ter's gonna get me..." He stared into space tears falling down the side of his face onto the floor.. "'You pr-romise...?" Another moment before he nodded. "Okay... 'night, Dean"_

---

Sam woke with a start, sweat gluing his hair to his head, panting heavily as if he was running. His body trembling hard.

It was so _vivid!_ Sam could feel every pain, emotion, and thought. It felt as though it actually happened. As if it was memory of his...

Sam shook his head. No. This was just a figment of some demon or... _something's _imagination! Playing some sick game with him.

But that didn't calm down his body. It was still trembling, sweat still soaking him, and his breathing was still hard and wheezy. He felt jumpy and _scared_. It bewildered him. No matter how many times he told himself that it was all just a nightmare, just a part of some damned illusion, he found he was doubting himself.

Feeling more claustrophobic than ever, Sam pulled hard on the sleeves of the straitjacket, not quite believing that they haven't even loosened. Sam squirmed and pulled, squirmed and pulled, but the buckles held steady. Irrational fear starting to take hold, he slammed his body against he padded wall in some hope of making the restraints loosen.

"Samuel Winchester!" an intercom boomed. "Calm down or we'll have to give you a sedative!"

Sam stopped. He was leaning forward, his head almost reaching the ground as he panted hard, trying to catch his breath and calm his nerves down. The jacket felt impossibly tighter, constricting his lungs and squeezing his arms tighter around him.

As soon as he caught his breath, Dr. Ackles walked in. He was accompanied by what looked like a security guard. Sam could see a gun, handcuffs, a baton and tazer in his holster. Sam's stomach involunarily flipped at the sight of the cuffs.

"It's time for me to give you your meds, Sam," Dr. Ackles said, waving a loaded syringe in the air.

"Hell, no!" Sam said indigently. "You ain't getting anywhere near me with that thing!"

"I'm sorry, Sam. But it's for your own health. If you don't cooperate, Alex here will have to restrain you."

Sam looked back at the guard, Alex, who had a slight smirk on his face. "I don't care what you do. You ain't gunna stick that needle in me!"

Dr. Ackles sighed. "As happy as I am you're much, _much_ less submissive, it's is a bit more troublesome than when you were just hysteric. Alex."

Faster than Sam thought possible, Alex had his arms around Sam's chest and his knees pinning Sam's legs down. "No!" Sam yelled. He bucked and launched his head back, smiling at the crunching sound when his head made contact with Alex's nose. Alex's grip loosened and Sam was able to get free. But he didn't get more than two feet when a surge of electricity crippled him. Sam fell to the ground, stunned. Another shock ripped through him, momentarily sending his legs flailing and his body twitching. He lay limply on the ground looking up at the bright ceiling, trying to regain his senses. When Dr. Ackles came into view, Sam weakly shook his head. "No... Don' need..." The doctor stuck the needle into Sam's neck, slowly pushing the plunger in. All at once, the room blurred and the noise around him sounded garbled.

"He's more dangerous now." Sam recognized the voice of the doctor. "We're gonna have to move him to a more secure unit, for his and the staff's safety."

Sam couldn't hear anymore after that. Everything was garbled. Nothing made _sense._ And for a while, he lost himself.

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**FEED THE DRAGON! ALL REVIEWS ARE HELPFUL AND MUCH APPRECIATED!!!!  
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	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Would I be writing FANFICTION if I owned them....?**

**_ATTENTION!_ I have a poll on my profile and I would MUCH appreciate it if you took it. It's basically asking whether or not I should start this new story I have in mind.  
**

**This story actually isn't planned out that well (it _was_ something I came up with on a whim), so I hope the story does start to get boring after a while...**

**_WARNING!_ Sexual innuendo. Not graphic but not for the squeamish.  
**

**Enjoy chapter three!  
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Sam yanked and pulled until his white hospital clothes were soaked through with sweat. But no matter how hard he tried, the restraints remained firm.

They had moved Sam to another white room, the only difference was that it wasn't padded. Padding wasn't really necessary when Sam's strapped permanently to a bed with a bedpan and everything.

Sam growled and frustration and hit his head against his pillow. He was going to go crazy just from the lack of movement he was allowed. What was worse was that the nurses _spoon feed_ him. He had never felt so humiliated than when 'Jack' made airplane noises to match the spoon's movements.

Sam had noticed a few things since he has woken. One, his wrists were so scarred and deformed, his hand can't support any weight and his fingers never go the way Sam want's them to go. A physical therapist came in earlier and to much of Sam's frustration, he couldn't even squeeze a sponge without pain shooting up his arms. Sam almost lost it when he couldn't grip a plastic stick right.

Sam also had so many other scars all over his body. Much more than he _should _have. Scars from god knows what tortures.

Dr. Ackles came in everyday, trying to get Sam to talk about what he remembered and what he didn't. Sam didn't say anything about the dream, or about his previous life. Instead they had conversations about pointless things, which the doctor seemed fine with. The doctor seemed to be almost everything Sam had ever wanted. A normal life with a normal job, lovely wife named Anne and three kids. Sam liked it when Dr. Ackles visited. For that short amount of time, it seemed as though Sam wasn't strapped to a bed in a mental hospital.

Sam _hated_ the end of the sessions though, when Dr. Ackles shot Sam with that horrid 'medicine.' Sam always struggled to get away from it, and he never succeeded. Instead, Sam was shot and remained comatose and totally unaware of the world for those few hours.

And for those few hours, Sam saw _awful_ things. He saw John beating him within an inch of his life over and over again through his life. He saw John blaming him for the death of his wife, the loss of his job, for everything.

And then, Sam saw something _else..._

---

_"You fucking, lazy, stupid prick!" John screamed. He had his six-year-old Sam by the collar of his shirt, slamming his fist into Sam's face._

_"D-daddy...!" Sam sobbed. "Pl-le-ease!"_

_"Shut up!" John dropped his son to the floor and kicked him repeatedly in the stomach against the wall. "Fucking brat! Why the fuck are you alive!? After Mary! After you ruined my life!" He grabbed his belt and bent Sam over a chair. After ripping his son's shirt off, he began hitting Sam's back with the buckle._

_"Dean!" Sam begged. "Dean, please, help me, PLEASE!" His screaming sobs echoed through the motel room, unnoticed by anyone._

_"Crazy fucker..." John gave Sam a few more lashes before throwing his bloody belt to the side and putting his cigarette out on the back of his neck, electing more tears from his son. He grabbed Sam roughly by the arms and dragged the limp boy to the handcuffs, where he secured him to the wall. John stood back and looked at his handy work. Sam hung limply by the cuffs, his toes barely touching the ground. His face and torso were covered in purple and black bruises. His back bloody from the belt. John smiled. "I'll be back in a bit, Sammy... 'Bout time I used you for something useful..." he muttered as he slammed the door behind him._

_Sam stared into space. Suddenly, a ghost of a smile appeared. "Dean?" he whispered. A fresh wave of tears came as he closed his eyes. "I knew you'd come for me... I knew you'd come for me, big brother..."_

_A couple of hours later, John came back with another man, both of them obviously drunk. John pointed at Sam. "There 'e isss..."_

_The other man, obese and sweaty, eyed Sam with a sick hunger. "Lo-oooks sweeet..." The man handed John a few fifties. "This good fuur 'nn hoooour?"_

_John took the money and smiled. "Enjoy!" John walked back out and locked the door behind him._

_The man walked up to Sam and pulled down the boy's pants and boxers. He gave Sam a twisted smile as he removed his own clothing. Sam looked in horror at the naked man, wondering what on earth he was doing. His rolls of fat jiggled as he laughed. "Perty boyee..." He started to touch young Sam in ways that made his stomach roll, and sobs break loose. "Shuddup!" He slapped Sam a few times across the face. "I paiied yur daddy... naw yur gunna be ma bitch..."_

---

When Sam came back to reality (or whatever this place was) he felt bile rise to his mouth. Without warning, he turned his head and vomited to the side of his pillow. "Oh... god..." Sam remembered the dream, _memory...?_, with a disgusting vividness. He felt the man's hands on him, doing things to him, making _him_ do things back...

A few minutes later, a nurse rushed in with towels and water. "Are you alright? Do you feel sick?"

Sam didn't answer. Of course he felt sick. After feeling himself _doing_ those things, how could he _not _feel sick?

The nurse grabbed Sam's pillow and carefully pulled it out from under him. She carefully cleaned his face with the towels and water before opening a bottle of water and holding it to Sam's mouth. "Drink slowly, Sam..."

Sam drank the cool liquid greedily, needing it to rinse the taste from his mouth and to wet his dry throat.

Suddenly, Sam spat the water out, soaking the sides of his face.

"Sam!?" the nurse said worriedly. "Sam?!" she said again. After receiving no answer, she ran out of the room, yelling for Dr. Ackles.

Sam lay in bed, pictures racing by his eyes. His father with dozens of other people in different instances over several years. Mostly men, many of them men of cloth. Sometimes women. Money was exchanged, and they played with Sam as they wished. All the while Sam begging for it to end. Begging for his next beating to be his last. Begging for the humiliation and degradation to just stop.

Sam remembered it all. Every disgusting detail. Everything they, and he, did. And after every person, after their time was up and the zipped up their pants and left, Sam remembered Dean. He didn't see him but he was there. Sam knew he was. Dean cradled Sam's head in his hands, whispering soft reassurances, allowing Sam to momentarily forget the horrors of his life. At least, until John walked back in and made Dean disappear. Until John slapped Sam for being a whore and cuffed him back up to the wall, grinning at his new wad of money.

"Sam...?" a distant voice called. "Sam?"

"D-Dean...?" Sam asked.

Dr. Ackles' shoulder's slumped. "Oh no..." he whispered.

Sam's eyes started to focus and his eyes flashed with recognition. "Doctor...?"

Dr. Ackles sighed. He was afraid of this. "It's okay, Sam. Do you remember where you are?"

Sam gave him a weak but clear look of annoyance. Dr. Ackles smiled. "Good. Can you tell me what happened?"

Sam quickly shook his head. He didn't want to think about the horrors he just relived any more than he absolutely had to.

"Are you sure?" Dr. Ackles asked disbelievingly.

Sam nodded. "I'm fine, doctor," he croaked out.

Dr. Ackles nodded. "Alright." He looked at his watch. "It's about time to go to sleep now." The doctor turned to leave. "Sleep well, Sam."

After Dr. Ackles and the nurse left, the lights were shut off and Sam was left alone with nothing to think about but the memories. Sam squirmed and errant tears fell down his face. He felt dirty, violated, and scared. He closed his eyes and tried to force himself to sleep. To get away from the horrific revelations of the day. "Dean..." Sam whispered. "Please... get me out of here..."

---

Dr. Ackles watched the surveillance camera, his face turning dark at Sam's plea. "He's going back to the way he was before..."

"Maybe we should try another method," Dr. Rewali suggested.

"Like what?"

"We could try electroshock therapy."

Dr. Ackles turned to his partner and gave him an incredulous look. "Are you insane? Our machine is barely functional _and_ we don't know if it'll even work!

"What else do you suggest!?" Dr. Rewali shot back. "He's getting worse and worse, and apparently just forgetting everything hasn't helped!"

Dr. Ackles glared at him. "You realize if it fails it could put him in a permanently vegetative state and Mel could sue us for malpractice?"

Dr. Rewali sighed. "What other choice do we have?"

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_**Remember to take the poll on my profile!**_

**AND FEED THE DRAGON! ALL REVIEWS ARE SO HELPFUL AND MUCH APPRECIATED!!!!  
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	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: Would I be writing FANFICTION if I owned them....?**

**This story isn't going to be along one. I'm planning to have it be done in about 3-4 more chapters.**

**_WARNING!_ Sexual abuse. NOT FOR THE SQEAMISH!!**

**BARACK OBAMA IS GOING TO BE OUR PRESIDENT FROM TODAY ONWARDS FOR AT LEAST FOUR YEARS!!!!! (I apologize to anyone not in support of Obama)**

**Enjoy chapter four!  
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Sam wasn't able to sleep. All he could think about were the beatings, the rapes, and Dean. Sam was starting to fade back, getting trapped in a time of fear and control. In his lucid moments, Sam concentrated on the life of hunting and his _real_ father, hoping not to loose grip of reality again. But then... what if _this_ was reality? What if his brother really was a fragment of his imagination? Sam shook his head. No. Something wants him to think that and he wasn't giving it any satisfaction. But then Sam's mind would remember the abuse again, and he would lose control.

---

_John fingered his wad of money, smiling from ear to ear. When he finally looked at Sam, laying shaking and naked on the bed and looking up at him with pleading eyes, he scowled. "What do you want, whore!" He pulled Sam off the bed and kicked him in the back. Sam screamed and cried as his father came down with a rain of punches. "Why did I get stuck with you!?" John shouted furiously. "You killed Mary and now I'm stuck with a disgusting whore! And look!" He pulled Sam up and dragged him to the bed. "You dirtied my bed! Where the hell am I gonna sleep now!?" He flung Sam to the floor and retrieved his belt and started swinging. Sam cowered into a small ball as the stinging blows covered his body. When his father finally finished, Sam was nothing but a quivering, sobbing mess._

**FLASH!**

_It was the thirteenth anniversary of Mary Winchester's death. John decided to bring Sam with him to the bar for once. Sam was only dressed in a baggy shirt that barely covered his ass. That was probably the point. All through the evening, Sam was groped and molested by random drunks and sober persons. And when John was at his most drunk, he pulled his son's shirt off and pushed him into an alley outside, where a group of people gang-raped Sam for the evening. No charge necessary._

**Flash!**

_"Dean..." sixteen-year-old Sam begged, hanging from the handcuffs. "Save me, please... please, big brother...?" Sam softly cried. If anyone could save him, it'd be Dean. He abruptly stopped crying when Dean put a finger under his chin and lifted his head up. He smiled and ruffled Sam's hair comfortingly._

_"Dean..?" Sam whimpered hopefully._

_The door to the motel room burst open. Several police and paramedics poured into the room. Thinking his father wanted him to serve again tonight, tears started to call down his face and he whimpered and cowered back._

_"Jesus..." one officer said._

_"Get that kid down!" One of them walked up and carefully undid the cuffs. "Christ, he's only kid!"_

_Someone enveloped him in warm arms. When Sam looked up he smiled. "Thank you, Dean..."_

_The paramedics who had him now gave each other worried looks. _Whose Dean?"

---

Jack, one of the nurses, came in with a tray of mush for Sam to eat. He pulled up a chair next to Sam and set the tray on the table next to him. "You ready for lunch, Sam?"

Sam continued to stare out into space, trapped in another cycle of abuse.

Jack smiled. "Comatose again, huh?" Jack sighed. "'Bout time. I've been inching for my next fix," he whispered. He leaned over and licked Sam's cheek. Sam cringed, but his eyes continued to stare into space. Jack gave a grunt of satisfaction. "Excellent..." He quickly pulled Sam's and his own pants down before climbing up on the bed. He started to touch Sam and moan in self-pleasure. He fingered Sam's hole, making sure it was stretched enough. Then, when he was ready, he slowly thrust himself in, gasping at the tight warmth. "Oh man, boy, you feel better than I remember!" Jack whispered breathlessly.

Sam whimpered at the sudden cold and disturbingly familiar touch. When something entered him, he gasped and started to sob. Dozens of different abusers flashing before his eyes, taking their pleasure from him, telling him he was a slut...

_They're right. I am a slut. A diry whore..._ Suddenly, Sam's eyes started to focus as he came back to the hospital. "Wh-what...?"

"Shit!" Jack whispered. He quickly climbed off and pulled his pants back up, mentally trying to get himself to go soft.

Sam started to panic, fearing what the nurse might have been doing. "W-w-what were you...!?"

Jack slammed a hand over Sam's mouth, pulling Sam's pants back up in the process. "Don't tell anyone!" Jack warned in a low growl. "It's not like anyone's gonna believe a crazy like you anyway."

Tears spilled out from Sam's eyes as unadulterated fear seized Sam. Sam quickly nodded, the man in front of him scaring him a lot more than it should. _God, is this all I'm good for...?_

The doors to the room opened and Dr. Ackles and someone else waltzed in. "How's our patient this morning, Jack?" he asked distractedly as he looked as his clipboard.

Jack quickly removed his hand and said, "He's not eating, doctor."

"Is that so..." Dr. Ackles walked up to Sam's bed. He frowned at the tears and abject terror in the young man's eyes. "Sam, is something wrong?"

Sam's eyes flickered over to Jack for a moment, who glared at him in warning. But Sam didn't care. He was scared. That was all that mattered. "J-Jack..." Jack stiffened and looked at the doctor's back.

"What about him?" Dr. Ackles asked.

"H-he was t-t-touching me... w-w-wrong..."

"Jack?" the doctor question incredulously. "Nonsense, he's been your nurse for the last three years. He's a wonderful man. You must have been remembering what happened to you and got confused."

Sam shook his head as his fear increased tenfold. "Pl-lease! H-he..."

"Silence, Samuel!" the other man said. He pulled out a syringe and approached the young man.

"NO!" Sam screamed. "NO, I DON'T NEED THAT! PLEASE!"

Jack held Sam's head to keep him still and Sam could feel the sticky juices on a couple of the fingers. Sam's eyes widened. Thinking his father found someone else to play with him, hysteria took hold. "DEAN!" Sam screamed. His screams were high-pitched and desperate, pride and stubbornness gone. "DEAN! HELP ME! PLEASE, HELP ME!"

The man stuck the needle into Sam's neck and pushed the plunger in. "No..." Sam whimpered. "No, please! Dean! DEAN!!!!"

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**FEED THE DRAGON! ALL REVIEWS ARE SO HELPFUL AND MUCH APPRECIATED!!!!  
**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: Would I be writing FANFICTION if I owned them....?**

**_WARNING!_ Sexual abuse. NOT FOR THE SQEAMISH!!**

**Okay, I'm not really putting any effort in this story. This chapter is short, and I'm only going to have another chapter or two after this. It sucks big time, so if you tell me so, I really won't mind.  
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**Enjoy chapter five!  
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When Sam regained consciousness, he was strapped to cold table. The restraints were made out of stiff leather that aggravated his fragile wrists.

He was only wearing hospital pants. Electrodes were attached to his head and torso and a rubber plug was inserted into his mouth. Fear seized Sam as his jumbled brain scrambled for a reason for the electrodes.

"Ready when you are, doctor," Jack's voice said over the intercom.

"Set it to lowest voltage and administer the first level of shocks," Dr. Ackles' voice said.

Sam's body jerked in it's restraints as electricity shot through his body at regular intervals. Sam gave a pathetic grunt after each shock. His body started to feel light and extra sensitive.

"Increase the voltage."

"Increasing the voltage," Jack said.

Sam's body jerked harder against the restraints, tears starting to fall down his face. _Please... Dean, help me!_

Sam started to scream against the rubber gag as the voltage was increased again, his body jerking like a piece of meat, sending waves of pain through his sensitive nerves.

Then it stopped. Sam lay limply on the table, a sheen of sweat covered his body. Jack came up and gave Sam a twisted smile. "How are you feeling, Sam?"

Sam looked up at the man with blank, glassy eyes. Drool feel down out of the corners of his mouth, foam lining his lips and the gag.

Jack removed the gag and cleaned it off. He then roughly wiped Sam's face off

Sam's eyes started to focus on Jack. He gave a childish smile and whimpered out, "De...?"

Jack gave Sam a disgusted look. "You say something, whore?"

Sam just kept smiling. Tears started running down his face again. "Don' leave me 'gain..."

Jack looked around, making sure no one was near. He looked back at Sam and slowly slipped a hand into his pants.

Sam's smile disappeared, his serene face turning to fear. "De...! No... help me....!"

Jack gave a wicked smile as he started to jack Sam off. "What's wrong, lover? Not rough enough...?" He squeezed the muscle in his hand hard, making Sam yelp.

Sam looked up at teary eyes at Dean. "De... help me!"

Dean bent down and held Sam close to his chest. "Please wake up, Sammy..."

Sam frowned. "Wha...?"

"Please wake up, Sam... It's a curse. It's not real!"

Jack climbed up on top of Sam and slowly lowered both of their pants. He placed a hand over Sam's mouth before burying himself into Sam all the way to the hilt.

Sam screamed against the hand, the intrusion ripping him apart.

"It's okay, Sam!" Dean said. "Just wake up, it's not real!"

Sam looked at Dean with eyes filled with fear. _How was he supposed to wake up? He was awake! Awake and being raped by some nurse!_

Dean cradled Sam's head to his chest, his own tears starting to fall. "Just wake UP!"

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**Told ya it sucks :P**

**Review and tell me what you think. I'm actually expecting a lot of flares, so if you have one, go ahead and send it my way. The dragon will eat anything :P  
**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: Would I be writing FANFICTION if I owned them....?**

**The last chapter of my story. It has a sucky ending, but I've got a new idea for a story I want to start today, and I think it will be MUCH better than this one.**

**So enjoy chapter six! The final chapter!  
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Suddenly, Sam was laying in a bed. The bed of the motel room.

Dean was sitting next to him, his head in Dean's lap. Bobby was standing a few feet away, relief palpable.

Sam's gaze met Dean's and tears started to fall. "Dean...? You real?"

"Yeah, Sammy. I'm real."

"Daddy never hurt us?"

Dean looked at Sam in utter sadness. "No. Dad was a good father to us."

Sam sighed. As he was removed from the fake reality, the intensity of the fake memories became less, but they were still there. "Wh-what happened?"

"Remember that case we took a few weeks back? With those three witches?"

"Yeah... didn't they all kill themselves?"

"Apparently there was a fourth, and she was out for revenge."

Sam nodded. He pushed himself up into sitting position, but kept physical contact with Dean at all times. "What'd she do to me?"

"A spell," Bobby interjected. "Basically she put you into a fake reality."

Sam nodded. He started to shiver as he felt all the dozens of people who supposedly assaulted him. It was amazing that none of it was _real_ but it still was affecting him like this.

"You alright, Sammy?" Dean asked.

Sam shook his head. He curled into a small ball and silently wept. He heard the door open and assumed that Bobby was leaving, giving the brother's some privacy.

"Sammy, what happened?" Dean asked.

Sam didn't respond. He just leaned into Dean's warmth and cried. He almost couldn't believe it. Dean was _real_. Dean was _here_.

"Sam, I can't help unless I know what happened."

Sam leaned up into sitting position and tried to wipe his eyes off. "You don't need to help," Sam said quietly. "You're _here_. That's all that matters."

Dean gave a quiet scoff and smiled. "Yeah, well I want you to tell me everything anyway."

Sam smiled back. That was just so _Dean._..

_---_

Dean went first. He described how Sam fell unconscious. He would go into fits and scream for his brother but never wake up. Not knowing what else to do, Dean called Bobby. They figured out it was a spell and they hunted the witch down. Once the spell was broken, all they had to do was get Sam to wake up.

Then it was Sam's turn. Sam started out slowly at first, describing what happened what he first woke up. But as the memory gate opened, the flood came out and Sam wasn't able to stop himself. He told his brother every horrific detail and memory of the nightmare. In the end, Sam was crying, curled in Dean's chest, with Dean's arms wrapped tightly around him.

"My god..." Dean said. "I am _so_ sorry, Sam. I should have gotten you out of there sooner."

Sam shook his head adamently. "Wasn't your fault. Never your fault. I would have been completely lost if it wasn't for you."

Dean just shook his head and held Sam tighter to himself, more determined than ever to make sure his little brother remained safe.

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**Told ya the end sucked :P And it's extremely short. Did I mention that before?  
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**PLEASE REVIEW AND FEED THE DRAGON!  
**


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